Client Responsibilities

     A very good book idea might be one where I outline not the process of therapy, but rather the responsibilities and right of the therapee. Expectations of therapy would be vital. I would talk about stages of therapy, but constantly re-inform the reader  that they must ask their therapist questions. Asking questions to and of the therapist is a client's best tool. It allows a client to shield themselves from counter-transference; it allows a client to gain more understanding of themselves - something crucial in practice; it allows the client to increase their knowledge of the clinician in such a way to increase the bond between these two disparate points.
     I think that a client must be told that his/her self is the most powerful force in the therapeutic alliance. A clinician receives and reflects only; that is, a good clinician receives or reflects with very minimal else. The clinician and the client do work together; the clinician does not do work in spite of the client. This is called psychoeducation and is not true therapy.

Appropriate Emotional Investment

     It is important for a clinician to be emotionally interested, but not emotionally invested in his or her clients. There is an important distinction here that must be mentioned in order to further the point. A clinician who is emotionally invested in clients ties a string to clients' development, taking themselves along for a ride, which depends upon someone else's motivation. This, of course, brings up many issues regarding boundaries between clinician and client. A clinician does not want to be at the mercy of the client; this might cause ripples to be felt throughout that therapist's whole practice. The opposite end is where the emotionally cut-off clinician practices - a place that does not necessarily engender good therapy and creates (possible on purpose on some level) no emotional connection or attachment with the clinician. This, just like the opposite end, can lead to echoes into other therapy sessions. So what does the middle look like? And why am I so afraid of the extremes? And how have I seen myself going into either extreme?
     Betwixt these two extremes, a clinician finds the land of emotional interest without emotional investment or dependence. This is a space where the clinician is comfortable with being present and appropriately emotional/empathetic with the client without allowing his or her personal life to bleed through into the session (non-therapeutically). To some degree, I think that it takes time to find this balance.

Arguing Against Progress

     There are many things that I am afraid of - one of the more curricular ones is the quasi-inevitable heath-death of this field. Sarcasm and hyperbole aside, the lack of forward development in the field is of huge concern. What does a lack of change really mean? It means that the answers have been found and/or no one cares anymore. A good parallel is language: language develops until another is created from its ruin or something better or more efficient takes its place. I do worry about this because I don't see as many people asking the important questions in the field and engaging in deep introspection and supervision, in order to develop themselves. This baffles and hurts me. Without each member of our field asking questions that further themselves and the field as a whole, we will stagnate and possibly start to see what we have already accomplished as enough. This would surely be the death of the field. As our culture, society, and clientele change, so must we. One could say that culture, society, and clientele will always be changing, so the field will as well. The added component here must be pride. Man is full of pride (and laziness) in his work, wanting the effect to stop when homeostasis is reached. It is important to never feel lazy in this fight. To some degree, there should always be someone who is the nay-sayer or the devil's advocate; someone who is ready to push the envelope, point out the weaknesses, or instill doubt. One could almost say that we are not looking for a Unified Theory (as this would surely mean the end of the field), but rather the continued dialogue and struggle to find that within ourselves that helps another - and surely each of us can contribute something (a lesson, perhaps) that is wholly our own, wholly subjective.
     To argue is to seek continued survival; to find perfection is to encourage death. This is odd, in that one could think that I am purposefully undermining a perfect theory - but that is the exact problem: there is no perfect theory! We each must continually question how we practice in order to be better ourselves.

Teaching Theories and Basic Skills

     I still have some major internal conflict on the topic of teaching theories to therapists. I'm still unsure of whether it is a good idea or not. I think that the main counseling skills of true active listening, empathy, reactive choices (interpretations, reflections, minimal urges, etc.), and appropriate self-disclosure. Of course, some of these skills come easier to some student of the field versus others. This should be monitored, as we do not want to continue teaching the expert. I'm starting to think that some mastery of these skills should be shown before moving on to deeper theories of the field. To put this whole paragraph a different way: While theoretical orientation is of high impact, it should not be taught before the basic elements of the craft are honed in the budding clinician.
     Theories are all well and good (and I will get to these parts in a moment), but they do not fulfill the needs of the therapeutic dyad that the basic counseling skills do in full. A therapist without active listening is deaf; a therapist without empathy is cold and uncaring; a therapist without correct reactions is ineffective; and a therapist without a personal and semi-transparent identity is not a true person, but a cheap mask. No amount of theoretical knowledge will help that therapist - he or she is not a researcher, an occupation where warmth, though encouraged, is not vital. Simply being intelligent in theory might increase the positive content of the message, but as every good therapist knows, how a message is conveyed is not of secondary importance.
     While it might seem as if I am bashing theories, allow me to be the first to quash this idea. Theories provide us with important information about what might be going on behind the eyes of a client. They also inform us as to what reaction might be appropriate for the clinician and the client. It must also be said that the basic counseling skills can be learned, and even monitored, by anyone, without the necessary education that therapists undergo. The layman is, of course, capable of reading any text that a budding or expert therapist might, but I would say (hesitantly) that the layman is not able to understand the implications of the text without the same education. This is, to some small degree, what separates the therapist from the natural-born thinker.
     It would be very difficult to measure the ability of trainees in the basic counseling skills. Observers would need to be use, in order to grade trainees in real interactions with clients. Pen-and-paper exams would be useless here. This would further push the impact of professors and instructors in their job as gatekeeper for the field. Were they to observe a student who shows no aptitude in these basic skills, they would need to take action for the sake of their university's program and, more importantly, to keep the bar set high for incoming professional therapists.

Answers

     Sometimes I have to laugh at my own ego. I think that I have the answer to other people's problems - that somehow the books I read have an answer to their troubles. Sure, that information can give some insight into the general, the objective, the well-known, but can anything written in these tomes get to the core of the person? Said otherwise: Might the presentation of a book help a client through their concern? This has, of course, occurred; how else would bibliotherapy be seen as a viable sub-theme of psychotherapy? Of course, people have also found inspiration in books. But inspiration is much different than true insight. Insight requires the addition of a second person who shares goals, but does not share eyes. In this way, therapy is more about communication and undersanding that it is the knowledge gleaned in a classroom. Such knowledge is a frame while listening and understanding is the beautiful painting housed within. Which is the real art? Which took more effort and understanding? That is a difficult question - one that causes science and art to become at odds. I do not, at this time, endeavor to belittle either in favor of the other. Instead, should not the pairing be celebrated?

What is the Highest Ideal?

     I do wonder . . . what do we want for our clients? Many therapists might say peace; many might say stability; others could say health. Some therapists push their clients toward that ever-elusive Maslowian self-actualization. I do wonder whether that might be a too-lofty goal. Of course, I'm not saying that self-actualization is not a relevant goal worth seeking. What I am trying to critique is the probability of a client, or even anyone, to reach this goal. Even Maslow commented on the low probability of this end. For the everyman, then, what is the end goal? It can't be a self-actualization. Why not happiness? Is that not enough?
     Most people, I would say, want a sense of happiness. What this means for them depends very mcuh ont heir personality, so I will not break happiness down into component parts. Is it wise for a therpaist to ask a client if they are happy? For many clients, the answer is most likely yes; I do, though, want to push some hesitation on the budding therapist to think about their client before asking, as happiness itself might be an unattainable ideal to them.
     A good example of this might be a client in current crisis or one with significant traumatic background. That client, most likely, is not interested in developing themselves in that manner, but rather is looking for an alleviation of their current negative symptoms. Asking an idealistic question (for that is what a query about happiness is), can be almost a slap in the face. A client might think that the clinician is not listening to them.
     Viktor Frankl, in an article or book (I can't remember which), mentioned that happiness is not the most proper ideal that man can aspire to. The interesting thing to me is not that he talks about meaningfulness being a more proper ideal, but rather that he mentioned happiness altogether. I'm wondering whether he would think that meaning lays on the path to happiness or vice versa. Differently said: Does having purpose bring one happiness or does happiness generally cause one to gain purpose? Did Frankl think, perhaps, that happiness is off the table because meaningfulness is a logical step to be gained first - and perhaps can only organically arise through the search for and attainment of purpose? Are there truly happy people who do not have purpose in their lives?

Truth in Therapy

     I have, perhaps, discussed this topic before, but I think that it is of almost paramount importance. Today's topic is about the correctness of talking about truth with a client. I bring this topic up, at least at first, because, when interpreting, or even reflecting, a client's words/self, some reflections or interpretations, while true, can also be somewhat damaging to a client. The question here is one of the pragmatism or idealism: Does a therapist spare the client some anxiety (possibly undue) and reflect a different topic back to a client; or does the clinician instead tell the whole truth to the client, because, perhaps, it is his or her job to uncover what is hidden, even if the process of uncovering the treasure beneath is somewhat sullied?
     There are arguments for, and against, each topic here, which I hope to detail presently. There are also moderate approaches to each that are important to mention that might be more digestible for those more interested in that type of thing. A third, and possibly the last remark that I will make today on this subject, has more to do with the type of therapist that would choose each and answer to this question. The difficult part of this (and indeed all of these writings), is that these are opinions, penned by a man-boy who knows little to nothing on the subject yet.
     So, I guess the first question here has mainly to do with the truth. Why would the truth be beneficial for a client? This is a deeper question than what might be seen at first. Truth unto itself sheds all pretense at flippancy, sarcasm, charm, wit, and lie. It is without any type of cover. Such as it is, the truth can either "set you free" or very much mire one under a burden of personal guilt or responsibility. The therapist very much needs to understand the client and the situation. Perhaps that is more for another section . . . There are definitely those therapists who see themselves as truth-bringers - people who are there to say what needs to be said and damn the rest. there is some respect to be granted to these individuals, yet some appropriate caution to be taken, as well. The caution is relatively self-explanatory. The clinician who brings up the truth lays the client bare before himself/herself. He takes minimal responsibility, then, for the resulting actions. Telling the truth should lead to increased normal anxiety in a client. Anxiety is a flag to anyone that change must occur. Heightened anxiety is unstable and uncomfortable, pushing a client to make some kind of change in his or her life to vent some of that feeling away. It is a good idea for this change to be discussed in therapy (and, really, what good therapist wouldn't explore this?), though sometimes it isn't for purely administrative and physical reasons. It is here when the clinician's responsibility ends to some degree. Actually making a positive change is available to most clients and should be acted on. Some clients choose, though, to make negative changes, frequently self-harm, other-harm, homicide, or suicide. These are concepts that any good clinician is afraid of. Many therapists are afraid, I think that a good truth-related statement will be taken the wrong way and lead to those negative results. I think that the key here is to follow up that statements with something, especially if it could be a statement that shakes the core of the client. Such a follow-up could be anything, depending very much on how that clinician operates normally. Personally, I would suggest processing out the truth statement.
     I believe that I have delineated (though not amazingly well) the positives and negatives of using truth in a session. The next question to answer is: How do I integrate this into my practice? This is a good question and one whose answer must be enacted with tact. Obviously, having a practice where one "spits the truth" will be one with fierce opponents as well as very loyal clientele. While controversy is not always horrible, I think that most clinicians would oppose such a practice, even for the sheer stress level. So how does the average clinician add naked truths into their practice? This is a difficult question. I think that a lot of the question as to how honest and how often to be so honest depends very much on the quality of the relationship. In grad school, we are told that the relationship is an amazingly important thing. Why? We leverage much against it. There are very few relationships in someone's life that require the type of thought that the relationship between the therapist and the client requires. We ask clients to bear their soul; we ask clients to talk to uninhabited chairs; we tell clients their way of thinking about a problem in unintelligent. What is the fuel for this change? The relationship! Without such a bedrock of trust, there would be no reason for the client to engage in these farces. How does one include stark honesty and truth into the relationship? One has to build the relationship and hope that that connection is enough to continue after the trauma of truth. There's much more to this, but perhaps I will save it for another entry.
     I read a very good book that I would recommend to any therapist called The Schopenhauer Cure by Irvin Yalom. One of the many qualities of this text that I admire is its characters. Sure, it has a good therapist or two, but it also has a philosopher therapist. This is the type of therapist that can give out only truth. A true "non-philosopher therapist cannot act as such (and be considered a "normal" therapist). One thing that makes a good therapist is the ability to explain and be softer in their words. To a degree, this whole discussion is somewhat moot, as a therapist deals with much subjective truth, but must be able to communicate it in a way that is understandable and easier to swallow than either subjective or existential truths being forced on someone. So, perhaps better said, therapy is all about truth anyway. The therapist needs to communicate the truth effectively, though soft enough that it doesn't send the client into some kind of existential funk.